A Series of Incidents Involving Sledgehammers
by Ashabagawa
Summary: After bouncing off the windscreen of a van, Troy Bolton is trying to re-build his life. Unfortunately, a group of amateaur terrorists have got other ideas...
1. The Crash

**Chapter One – The Crash**

In Troy Bolton's opinion, there was a lot to be said for armpit hair. Lying in the gutter, after the latest 'Yobbo' attack, he was thankful for the extra padding underneath his arms, as there was nothing worse than a chapped armpit. Wincing slightly, he examined his body for signs of grievous damage.

The Yobbos that had attacked him had, thankfully, not been exceptionally bright and had decided to choose the captain of the East High Wildcats Basketball Team as their latest victim. Not that Troy was at all intimidating. Watching Troy Bolton fight was like watching a slightly warped rendition of Riverdance and was about as threatening too. No, the Yobbos had picked their target well in terms of violence; they could beat up Troy until he was roughly the size of a thimble for anyone cared. No, the reason for their stupidity was that someone else wanted to beat up Troy Bolton and they didn't want anyone else claiming the limelight.

Of course, these facts were completely unknown to Troy as he sat in the gutter, using his small pocket mirror to check for any sign of retina discolouration. What Troy did know however, was that his leg hurt, he was rather muddy, he had a black eye and his hair was all messed up. He sighed dramatically. How one day he would have liked to get back at the stinking rotters that had put him in this position, yet he knew it was out of the question. Each of the Yobbos was at least twice the size of him, and not half as camp. He was fighting a losing battle.

He pulled himself out of the gutter, using the fence next to him for support. Unfortunately, the fence was electric and he reeled backwards, yowling, into the middle of the road.

It was then that the van hit him.

The van just happened to be carrying eggs and later on, after Troy had been carted off to Accident and Emergency and the local papers had turned up, the driver would explain the incident as '...a very egg situation...'. He was very proud of this phrase although no one knew exactly why. After all, he had only inserted a noun in the place of an adjective.

Lying in his hospital bed, Troy was quite pleased he wasn't dead, even if he was connected to a drip that was leaking strange blue stuff into his arm. Death by egg was quite an unfortunate way to die and Chad would probably not stop laughing until his hair went straight. By God, he hated that boy. On the outside, it was all smiles, jokes and slapping backs although deep down Troy knew exactly what Chad had in mind. Captaincy. That was all. In fact, Troy wouldn't be surprised if that barely literate van driver was in fact Chad in a psychopath costume. Not that he'd need it, Chad was enough of a psychopath already. Everyone in East High thought last year's science lab rat infestation was due to the mouldy old cheese experiment the 9th Grade had enjoyed doing. Troy and Chad knew better. After all, it had been rather hard getting the furry little buggers in the science lab in the first place, the biting had been hell. Chad had made Troy do it. At least, that's what Troy had been planning on saying in the police inquiry later. Of course, there had never been one, Chad knew how to run a smooth operation.

Troy was interrupted from his reverie by the arrival of his parents. Mrs Bolton was smiley and cheerful, seemingly unperturbed by the fact her only child had been hit by a van driving at 67mph down a main road. Mr Bolton however, was another story.

Anger seemed to radiate off him like stink lines off a damp dog. His face was screwed up, as if contemplating hitting the calm doctor man who was pointing through the window from the hallway into his room. Upon seeing the look on his father's face, Troy retracted his mental statement about being glad he was alive.

The door opened and in walked the Boltons. Coach Bolton immediately made a beeline for Troy, although the doctor was standing in his way.

"Erm...Mr Bolton...I really don't think..." He spluttered, trying to keep the Coach at bay.

"I need to see my son!" The Coach yelled, coating the doctor with a layer of spit as he did so. The doctor paused in his actions to wipe the spit off his rectangular glasses, letting the Coach through by accident. The Coach took advantage of the doctor's momentary surrender and lurched forward, towards the bed that Troy was currently occupying.

"You!" He yelled. Troy quaked in his non-existent shoes.

"Me?" He asked, his voice shaking a little, well a lot actually.

"Yes, You!" Coach replied, his voice getting steadily louder.

"Now hang on!" The doctor, having recovered from his spittle-covered state, advanced upon Coach Bolton. This was a mistake. Within the space of 3.5348 seconds, the doctor was lying face down on the linoleum tiles, with Mr Bolton lying on top. "I think you've broken my collarbone..." The doctor whimpered, his voice muffled through the several feet of bulk that was Mr Bolton.

"You're a doctor..." The coach replied, not without a hint of smugness. "...deal with it." The doctor picked himself up from the floor, rubbing his upper chest. He left, leaving Troy alone with his parents.

Troy whimpered.

"What the hell..." The Coach began, dangerously quiet. "...did you think you were doing?"

"Sorry?"

"Standing in the middle of the road. What were you doing? A Captain can't be demonstrating weakness to his team."

"The fence....it was.....electric...." Troy's voice trailed off into yet another whimper.

"I don't care if that fence was bloody nuclear..." The Coach said, shooting a disgusted look Troy's way. "You shouldn't have been hanging off it. Do I make myself clear young man?" Troy nodded. Mrs Bolton had finished checking her reflection in her small compact mirror that she kept in her bag and turned back to her husband and son.

"Come on," She said to the Coach. "We're going to miss the film..."

"Of course my darling...." Mr Bolton shot another glare at Troy before taking his wife's arm. "We're going to the Cinema....you'd better be healed by the time we get back or there will be serious consequences..." They left, leaving Troy alone with his drip.

*

Sure enough, Chad laughed. Lots.

It was Monday and Troy had been ordered into school by his father, despite the fact that Troy still felt like a not yet constructed Ikea flat-pack. Getting out of the car had been tricky, but here he was, braving yet another day at East High...

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" Went Chad and Troy really did feel like putting a bullet in him. "HAHAHAHA"

"Oh shut up." Troy walloped him with a crutch.

"HAHAHAHAHA" Chad went on. The next few minutes seemed to pass by much of the same way and it was only with the arrival of Gabriella that things seemed to look up.

"Oh my gosh, Troy!" She exclaimed, flapping her newly painted nails. "What happened?"

"Well..." Troy was not sure he wanted to inform his girlfriend that he had in fact been beaten up by a group of unsavoury yobbo types and had then proceeded to hang off an electric fence. "I erm...got in a fight!" Yes, that sounded much better...

"A fight?" Gabriella asked, her voice even more unnaturally squeaky than usual. "But Troy! You know fighting is immoral..." Oh bum...

"They erm...they...were insulting you!" Yes, perfect!

"WHAT???! Who was insulting me?"

"The people that I fought..."

"Yes...but who were they?"

"The people that insulted you..."

"Yes, but who are they?"

"The people I fought..." The conversation was brought to a standstill by the bell, and they all filed, or in Troy's case limped, to homeroom.

Chad had to help him to walk, a responsibility that he cheerfully abused by nicking both of Troy's crutches and running off with them, howling manically. It was this action that confirmed Troy's belief that Chad was in fact a complete psychopath and not really fantastic best friend material. It was as he was left, completely stranded in the middle of the corridor, that he realised Sharpay had not yet tried to flirt with him.

Troy was slightly disappointed with this development, as he had always been quite smug about the fact that Sharpay fancied both him and his guts. Her neglecting attitude hurt more today than it would have done normally as today he happened to have managed to break himself into tiny little pieces in the space of a weekend, an achievement not to be underestimated. As Gabriella had nipped to the girl's bathroom, he was left alone, swaying slightly, in the middle of the corridor.

He realised there was no way imaginable that he could possibly make it to homeroom on his own, his legs were too week and feeble for him to even contemplate moving one in front of the other and the inevitable pain and howling that would no doubt follow close behind made Troy feel vaguely queasy. The only thing he could do was to wait for another able bodied human to wander down the corridor.

He started to hum.

After all, there was very little else to do as he'd left his PSP at home on his desk. He had however, remembered his pocket mirror and he pulled it out. He started to experiment with different hair styles, humming 'Billie Jean' as he did so.

"WHAT THE HELL?" The sharp, shouted words cut harshly into his happy oblivion and he jumped, dropping the pocket mirror on the floor. His father, Coach Bolton was standing in the doorway of the Gym, his face a bright beetroot and his eyes staring at something a few inches above Troy's head. Troy wondered what he was starting at before, with a frenzied madness, flattening the retro quiff he'd just spent the last five minutes perfecting.

The Coach seemed speechless, his mouth opening and closing.

"Er...hi?" Troy waved.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYINGTO DO?" The Coach's momentary silence was shattered by his exclamation, having obviously recovered from his shock.

"Er...I was trying to give it an Edward Cullen look but it ended up a bit more Danny from _Grease_."

"I DON'T MEAN YOUR HAIR!!!" The Coach yelled, having gone an even more prominent shade of purple. "ARE YOU DETERMINED TO MAKE ME A COMPLETE LAUGHING STOCK???!!!"

"Er...no..."

"THEN WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME, TROY?" The Coach took a breath. "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO....CAMP?" Troy stared at his father for some time.

"I don't know..." He said, finally. "I just seem to have a fatal attraction to all things feminine."

"STOP IT!" The Coach seemed unable to say anything else at that moment in time. "STOP IT! JUST STOP IT!!!" With that, he turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor.

Troy was left in the corridor, alone.


	2. Party

**Thanks for all the reviews! **

**Chapter Two – Party**

Coach Bolton did not talk to his son until exactly 32.875 hours after the 'corridor incident'. This breach of the silence only occurred when he had to ask for gravy on his mashed potatoes and so Troy wasn't sure that it even counted. Troy tried several times to provoke a response from his father although it was not to be. The Coach always stayed staring at the steering wheel/ food/ dog/ house/wife/ ugly transvestite he happened to be facing at the time.

Despite this, school soon slipped back into its normal gut-wrenching, vomit-provoking, slack-jawed, dribble-drooping routine and crutch thefts were limited to 13 a day. Troy soon found himself once again surrounded by the friends he hated, the teachers he loathed and the annoyingly nasal voice coming from his girlfriend. All was well.

Actually, that was a lie. All was not well. Troy soon discovered the reason for Sharpay's less than flirtatious attitude towards him. The lack of flirting was due to Sharpay's new boyfriend whom he had not yet met.

"He's just amazingly....amazing!" Sharpay told them during lunch hour on Tuesday. "You guys have to come meet him!" Troy prodded his jacket potato with his fork, perhaps a little too violently as it rolled off the table and onto the floor, where it proceeded to be squished under Ryan's new pink, silk, go-go boot.

"Troy!" He exclaimed, waving his napkin. "You're so _clumsy_!" He giggled before bending to de-potato the bottom of his shoe. Troy was in no mood to apologise. He simply picked up his tray and left the canteen. Actually, that was a lie too. It wasn't simple at all. First, he had to negotiate his crutch around the picnic style layout of the lunch bench, before asking for an arm up from Zeke. His exit wasn't quite as dramatic as previously planned although it seemed to have the desired effect.

Gabriella caught him up when he had just reached the corridor.

"Troy?" She asked. This was bad. He hadn't intended her to follow him.

"Gabriella?" He asked, imitating her speech. She pouted.

"I just came to see if you were ok..."

"Well I'm fine thank you very much."

"Fine then."

"Fine." She stalked back to the cafeteria, in a bubble of sulk. Troy watched her go, not too bothered about her exit.

Sure, he liked Gabrielle...sometimes. She was glamorous and her Dad had a nice car, yet sometimes little things about her really got on his nerves. Watching her disappear, Troy felt a strange sense of relief that he didn't have to talk to her. It wasn't that he preferred Sharpay over Gabriella, it was more that he enjoyed being fancied and being able to be smug about girls liking him. Now, the only thing he had to be smug about was around 65 broken bones.

He sighed and returned to the cafeteria.

Sharpay was mid-flow.

"He's completely _gorgeous!_" She gushed. Chad's head was nodding over his chocolate brioche and Kelsi was staring somewhere over Sharpay's left shoulder, pouring orange juice into an already overfilling cup. Gabriella just openly glared at him, shovelling goulash into her mouth with a sort of acidic venom. Troy winced. "His eyes sparkle like diamonds and his teeth...his teeth are like....icebergs in a sea of minty freshness!!!" Sharpay finished dramatically.

"Nice..." Kelsi said, still staring into the distance. Chad jerked awake.

"Yeah...yeah...great!" He added, blinking blurrily. Sharpay grinned at them before turning to Troy.

"Sounds like a bit of a tit to me..." He said, shrugging.

"What?" Sharpay asked, evidently hurt.

"Have you never seen 'Titanic'?" Troy asked. "When his teeth start sinking ships, let me know..." He turned back to what was left of his jacket potato. There was deathly silence. "What?" He asked, his mouth full of potato and beans.

"You can take the Mickey, Troy!" Sharpay said, her voice dangerously high-pitched. "But I am in LOVE!" She barked the last word and everyone jumped. "...and you can't take that away from me!!!" She stood up and stalked off, leaving the table in silence and shock. Truth be told, Sharpay's dramatic exit was a little more effective than that of Troy's. This was due to the fact that Sharpay didn't need crutches, a leg brace, iron will and an assistant to help her off the bench.

After Sharpay had left the cafeteria, everyone turned to Troy, their mouths open.

"What?" He asked.

"What do you think, Troy?" Kelsi asked, folding her arms. "Yeah Sharpay was boring all of us but you had absolutely no right to be so...so..." She struggled to find a fitting word for Troy's crime. "...so...rainy-on-paradey!!" She finished, obviously quite proud of the end and Ryan nodded significantly from behind her.

"I wasn't being _rainy-on-paradey_!" Troy protested. "I was just...you know..._saying_..."

"Yeah..." Kelsi went on. "You were saying things you shouldn't have been. Sharpay's our friend. We should be happy for her."

"I know."

"Then what's your problem, Troy?" The table was silent, everyone was staring fixedly at Troy, apart from Gabriella who was still glaring at her goulash.

"How should I know?" Troy retorted, even though he knew it was pathetic and Kelsi's next remark would completely chew him up.

"How should you know?" Kelsi repeated, her voice high. "Well you should know better than anyone, Troy! It's your head!!!" With that, she marched off, obviously in search of Sharpay.

"Well that puts an ice-cube in the knicker drawer..." Chad murmured. Zeke snorted.

"Stop it." Gabriella said. "Kelsi was completely in the right. You're a load of...."The rest of her speech was inaudible due to the banshee wail that was emitting from the mouth of the Drama teacher, Ms. Darbus' mouth.

"OH MY GOD!!!" She wailed. "SOMEONE'S PUT PHILADELPHIA CHEESE IN THE AIR CONDITIONING VENT!!!!" The cafeteria was thrown into chaos as soft cheese flew out of the various vents and onto the screaming students. Chad grinned manically.

"You sicken me...." Zeke murmured, slowly wiping cheese off his forehead. Gabriella screeched and threw herself out of the canteen. Troy sighed.

Nothing ever changed...

*

After the cafeteria had been de-cheesed, the students were allowed back in and Troy took this opportunity to apologise to Sharpay about his previous comments.

"It's okay, Troy." She said, smiling slightly. "It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is...is..._him..._" She sighed dramatically. Troy could think of several smart retorts but he simply bit his lip and smiled. He was learning. Slowly.

As it turned out, Sharpay's new boyfriend was holding a house party and Sharpay had invited them all along.

"You guys HAVE to come!" She gushed. "It'll be so fun! I'm going to bring Scrabble and Twister!" Troy privately thought that house parties were meant to involve booze, loud music and drugs but then again, this was a Disney creation so they would probably all be in bed by ten with hot chocolate.

"Cool!" Kelsi exclaimed. "Sounds great!" And so, they all agreed to meet Sharpay at the address she had given them on Saturday.

Chad didn't seem too chuffed about this development.

"I was planning a McDonalds sabotage that day..." He said, miserably. Troy managed to convince him to come however, realising that attending Sharpay's boyfriend's party was probably a good way to get back into her good books.

On Saturday night, Troy was sitting in the front room of the Bolton abode, waiting for Chad to pick him up.

"What're you doing?" Troy turned and realised his father had joined him in the living room.

"Going to a party."

"Oh." The Coach was quiet for a while. "What kind of party?"

"A house party." The Coach raised his eyebrows.

"Good...good. Make sure you drink a lot of booze."

"What?!"

"It's manly. Try to get completely smashed. Definitely drink more than Chad. Can't have you being out-done. Flirt outrageously with girls and make sure you get slapped. Really hard. Try to make the marks last until Monday..." The Coach continued with his persistent advice, Troy listening with his mouth hanging open. Finally, Chad's car pulled up.

"Got to go now, Dad!" Troy said, not without a hint of relief.

"Good stuff, Troy." The Coach said, patting him on the back. "Remember about the booze!"

"Yes, Dad." Troy limped up the drive towards where Chad's car was waiting.

"What took so long?" Chad asked, as Troy buckled himself in.

"DON'T WEAR YOUR SEAT-BELT, TROY!!!" The Coach yelled from the front porch. "IT'S NOT MACHO!!!"

"Dad." Troy replied, simply, indicating over to the hollering figure of his father.

"Right." Chad drove off. It was only when he caught the distinct whiff of Chanel No. 5 that Troy realised they were not alone in the car. He turned in his seat to see Taylor and Gabriella, squished in among crates of dynamite and a few boxes of matches, looking thoroughly displeased with the situation. They waved at him and he smiled back, not without an increasing sense of dread.

"Er...Chad?" Troy asked, indicating towards the dynamite. "What are they for?" Chad turned around slightly.

"What's what for?" He asked.

"The dynamite. What's it for?"

"Oh...just a little _project _of mine..." Troy groaned.

"Oh _no _Chad!!" He moaned. "Do we have to go through this again?"

"Go through what again?"

"The whole _project _talk we had last week. Every time you mess about with dynamite, someone ends up with no fingers."

"That was one time!" Chad protested. "And anyway, I don't need you to be a part of this one....all I need is a distraction."

"A distraction?!!!"

"Yeah."

"You're insane." Troy shook his head. "Anyway, where are we going?"

"47 Larkspur Drive, Broadway." Taylor recited. "It's not that far from here..." The rest of the journey passed in silence, save for the occasional disapproving sniff coming from one of the girls when a stick of dynamite fell onto her, or the annoyingly cheerful tune Chad was humming. Finally, they pulled up onto Larkspur Drive.

"37, 39, 41..." Murmured Chad. "43, 45...Holy Shit." Troy agreed with his sentiment exactly. The windows of number 47 were alive with flashing lights and pumping music. There was one thing for certain, this was no Disney party. This was a HOUSE party...


	3. Barry

**Thanks for all the reviews! **

**Sorry this chapter took so long! My laptop's Microsoft Word decided to shut down so I've had to bargain with my Mum and Dad for sessions on the Desktop. **

**Enjoy!**

**Asha **

**Chapter Three – Barry**

It was scary. Troy could think of no other way to describe it. It was now dark and the light from the windows of the small, suburban house spilled out onto the tarmac of the road, silhouettes of people dancing enthusiastically flickered, perfectly in time with the dull thumping beat of the dance music, pounding out through the walls and windows. Scary.

"Holy shit." Chad repeated, slamming the door of the car behind him. Troy just stared, open mouthed at number 47, fear building up to a climax in his chest. This was exactly what his father had been on about. This was a man's party, for men. If this was what being a man meant, Troy was quite happy being camp.

He flicked his fringe reflexively, something he did whenever he was nervous. Or hungry. Or happy. In fact, he pretty much did it all the time.

"What do we do?" He asked, quietly. Gabriella shook beside him in a wave of nerves while Taylor shrugged. Neither of these gestures were particularly comforting but it was the slow grin beginning to form on Chad's face that made Troy the most nervous. "What is it?" He asked, dreading the response.

"This is FANTASTIC!!!" Chad yelped and he ran, whooping over the neatly trimmed flowerbeds of 43 while shimmying over the kerb of 45. His destination was unmistakeable: Number 47.

"Hang on!!" Troy yelled, making a grab for the hood of Chad's sweatshirt and almost falling over his crutches. Chad dodged him gleefully, shimmying over to the porch.

Taylor and Gabriella exchanged glances. This was going to be an evening neither of them were likely to forget.

Chad rang the doorbell and Troy struggled to catch up, his crutches clapping on the tarmac. After a few moments, a strange, dark figure began to appear from behind the frosted glass. Troy gulped. The door opened and Chad and Troy found themselves face to face with a giant.

Not a real giant of course, a metaphorical giant. Funnily enough, faced with this huge man, Troy found himself not particularly bothered about the existence of mythical creatures. After a slightly embarrassing pause, the metaphorical giant let out a metaphorical roar of greeting and metaphorically opened the door. Chad automatically stepped through, pulling Troy along with him. Mouth hanging open, Troy stared up at the giant for a few more moments before being dragged along the corridor by a stubborn Chad, crutches almost lost in the chaos that greeted them.

The music had become even louder as they had stepped through the door, and Troy soon found himself screwing up his face, as if to block out the noise through extra cheek flab. Chad however, seemed completely in his element and was bopping up in down in time with the racket.

Chad had finally released the collar of his shirt and taking advantage of this predicament, Troy took this opportunity not only to massage his bruised neck muscles, but also to examine his surroundings.

Everything was rather dark and Troy had to squint even harder to make anything out. The giant that had opened the door was now lurking in the far corner of the room, conversing in a loud, booming voice with the three other abnormally large men he was clustered with.

The room itself was not particularly large, although they seemed to have managed to cram a huge amount of people in it. Troy noticed Ryan looking slightly tipsy, possibly due to the large can of Stella Artois he was now waving around. There was barely room to breathe between the stench of alcohol and the sheer lack of room and Troy found himself automatically sucking his stomach muscles in as people shoved past, taking absolutely no notice of his less than able bodied condition. The lights were dimmed and there was a pathetic looking disco ball hanging half-heartedly from the low ceiling. Troy suddenly wanted to see the one of the giants walk under it, suddenly obsessed with the image of a sparkly illuminated ball bopping one of them on the head.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tug on his arm. A petrified looking Gabriella was hanging off it, looking not like a rabbit in headlights, but more like a rabbit that had been run over several times.

"Oh my god…" Troy lip-read her statement as the din was way too loud to actually hear her speak. He shrugged his shoulders in reply. Taylor, interestingly, was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Taylor?" He mouthed but, after seven attempts at communicating his message, he gave up. Obviously Gabriella was not as good at lip-reading as he was.

The music suddenly stopped.

It was a quick glimpse of heaven in the midst of hell. Another track started and Troy realised that the pause had in fact been the end of song. That was interesting. Troy liked to think he was quite good in the area of music but he hadn't been able to detect any particular tune in that last track whatsoever. Maybe this was a party for deaf people.

A squeal soon brought him back to the real world. It certainly must have been a loud squeal as it was clearly audible over the booming music and had made several of the surrounding party guests squeal. Troy had little time to ponder this however as he soon felt a pair of arms hug him around his midriff.

"Troy!" He turned (with difficulty considering he was sandwiched in from all sides) and saw Sharpay, clasping the arm of one of the giants.

This was not the giant that had let him in. Although he was huge, this new giant didn't seem to be quite as muscled as the previous and was slightly gangly, his arms hanging some inches below his waist. He had a strange fuzz of dark hair scattered across his crown and his teeth, Troy noticed, were almost definitely not icebergs. Troy gulped. Although gangly, this new guy looked tough.

"Guys…" Sharpay began, her screeching voice still louder than the music. "This is Barry." Barry smiled and waved at everyone, although he seemed particularly interested in Troy, having taken an extra second looking him up and down. Troy gulped. It was becoming a habit.

"Hi." Barry said. This was obviously directed at the whole party, although Barry was just openly staring at Troy. With a painful twist of the stomach, Troy suddenly wondered if Sharpay had told him what he'd said at lunch. After yet another gulp, Troy introduced himself, shakily.

"Hi…I'm err…Troy…" Troy wasn't sure why he had momentarily forgotten his own name but it may have had something to do with the way Barry was wringing his huge hands, as if imagining placing them around someone's neck. A certain basketball captain's neck for example.

"So…you're Troy eh?" Barry asked, once more looking him up and down.

"Yes." Troy squeaked, panic rising up to n almost unbearable level.

"And I'm Gabriella…" Gabriella interrupted. Troy sighed with relief as Barry averted his gaze from Troy to Gabriella. "…I'm Troy's GIRLFRIEND." The last word was unnecessarily loud. So loud in fact that a number of the surrounding dancers turned to see what all the fuss was about. Gabriella smiled sweetly before fixing her hand to Troy's upper arm like a limpet would to a particularly nice rock. Troy wasn't sure he wanted to be a rock. He shifted uncomfortably as Gabriella beamed.

"Right…" Barry replied. "Er…congratulations." Gabriella continued to grin.

"I'm Chad." Chad said, his eyes fixed on something just over Troy's left shoulder. Troy craned his neck to see what it was Chad was so interested in although found himself staring at nothing but an old, threadbare sofa and a large chocolate fountain. "I'll be right back…" Chad muttered, his eyes glittering dangerously. Troy went to stop him although he found himself boxed in from all sides. For some unknown reason, Gabriella had decided to throw her arms around him, gluing him to the spot.

"Oh we're so in LOVE!" She gargled.

"I see…" Barry said. Sharpay sulked.

"Well Barry and I went see 'Les Miserable' the other night!" She said. "It was so ROMANTIC!" Gabriella glared at her. Troy got the feeling he was caught in the middle of some kind of murderous chess game, in which Barry and him here merely pawns. Barry seemed to catch on with this also and motioned for Troy to follow him away from the two competing girls.

Troy wasn't sure how to react to this. He was certainly pleased that Barry had decided not to loathe him for all eternity and was singling him out to chat to. Then again, Troy had no idea where Barry was taking him. For all he knew, Barry could be leading him away from the busy, bustling party in order to lead him down a quiet, backstreet alley, beat him up and then dump his lifeless body on the bonnet of his Dad's Renault Megane. The only other alternative was to stay here while Gabriella and Sharpay battled it out. Noting the looks on the girl's faces, Troy decided he'd take the corpse-on-bonnet-of-Dad's-car route.

Not without difficulty, he limped after Barry through the crowded room.

"You're Troy Jeremiah Bolton, right?" Barry asked over his shoulder as he sidestepped a wild dancer.

"Yeah…" Troy replied, unsure as to exactly what that had to do with the situation he was now in.

"Right." Barry replied, walking a little faster. "There's someone I'd like you to meet…"


	4. Wilhelmina

**Hi**

**If you have read my Alex Rider fanfic, 'Clear as Mud' you might recognise a few of the characters in this chapter. This story is set after 'Clear as Mud' and a few of the events may be referred to. This said, you don't have to have read 'Clear as Mud' to understand 'A Series of Incidents Involving Sledgehammers'. **

**Thanks,**

**Asha x **

**Chapter Four – Wilhelmina**

If you ever find yourself in the middle of high adrenaline-pumping pursuit, don't bring crutches. This was just one of the many rules Troy had found himself adopting since his crash, along with 'never eat crisps after chocolate' and 'retro quiffs only ever work on Edward Cullen'. He hurried along, his crutches getting caught every so often in the crowd, more than once he managed to trip someone up and the back of Barry's head was getting further and further away.

Troy picked up his pace, tripping people up twice as fast and concentrated on keeping up with Barry. At that moment in time, Barry was squeezing himself between the slightly ajar French windows that led out into the dark, slightly spooky garden.

Gritting his teeth, Troy pushed his way through the remaining crowd, pushing the pain to the back of his mind. He had other things to think about.

What had Barry meant '...there's someone I'd like you to meet...'? Troy privately prayed this 'someone' wasn't a hired killer who would proceed to carry out the corpse-on-Megane plot.

Negotiating the French windows was tricky. What was a simple manoeuvre of sucking in the stomach muscles for Barry turned out to be several minutes of aerobic exercises for Troy. While he carried out these training moves, Barry sighed impatiently from the other side of the paned glass.

"Hang on!" Troy called, his voice muffled. "This one's the tricky one..." He looped his foot through the gap and managed to climb through. As soon as he had emerged, Barry took off, walking quickly up the garden. Troy followed, at a limp.

They seemed to be heading into the middle of the darkness. Troy realised there must be a hedge half way as suddenly, as if from nowhere, a small string of fairy lights appeared, illuminating the roof of a small shed. After nearly falling into the almost completely invisible hedge, Troy followed Barry up to the door of the shed. Barry knocked three times.

"What are we doing here?" Troy whispered. He wasn't sure why he whispered actually, it just seemed appropriate in the tense situation. It didn't matter in the end, as Barry chose to ignore him anyway.

"Come in." The voice came from inside the shed. Feminine and slightly airy-fairy. Barry opened the door and led Troy into the shed.

Or was it a shed? On the outside, certainly, it looked just about passable to store a spade and possibly a wheelbarrow. On the inside, it seemed more like the office of an accountant. The walls were a dull, boring grey and were decorated only with a few photographs hanging on the far wall, seemingly like a hall of fame. Underneath the framed photographs were captions, depicting exactly who and where the pictures were of. There was a threadbare sofa, almost identical to the one up in the house and a wastepaper bin, overflowing with bits of rubbish and packets of crisps. In one corner was a desk and sitting at the desk was a woman.

She was very small and had long, dark, curly hair that hung past her very round face. A pair of very square, thick framed, black glasses sat hungrily in front of her eyes, filtering the room through their dark gaze. The woman seemed very interested in Troy and was busy looking him up and down.

"Troy Bolton..." She said, rolling the words around in her mouth. She had a fairly neutral accent, although it seemed slightly tinted with French. "Troy Bolton..." She paused and looked him dead in the eye. "Good evening...my name in Wilhelmina."

Troy wasn't sure how to respond to this. The name Wilhelmina didn't mean anything to him but at the same time, she didn't seem like a hired assassin.

"Hi Wilhelmina!" He said, perhaps a little too cheerily as Wilhelmina looked at him oddly through her thick spectacles.

"You're cheerful..." She mused. "Interesting..." She paused for a moment. "I suppose you know why you're here?"

"Err...." Troy wasn't sure what to say. Thankfully, Barry cut across him.

"Actually he doesn't..." Barry had moved over to the sofa and was now lounging on it, his long legs stretching the entire length of the fabric. "I thought it was best to lead him straight here; the party was crowded, almost anyone could have overheard us..."

"I see..." Wilhelmina said. "In that case...I suppose I'd better fill you in..." She got up from the desk and moved over to the far wall, where the photographs were hanging. "Have you ever heard of 'The Death Merchants', Troy?"

"No." It was the truth, Troy had never heard of anything called such a stupid name.

"Shame..." Wilhelmina studied him through her specs again and Troy shifted uncomfortably. "The Death Merchants..." She went on. "...are a band of highly lethal, if slightly DIY amateur terrorists. We operate on fairly loose morals and our policies are altered daily. We are up for hire for practically any government as we only work for the highest bidder and-"

"Hang on." Troy interrupted. "You're terrorists?" His fear made his voice come out squeaky and he would have been embarrassed if he was not already completely terrified.

Wilhelmina smiled slightly. "Yes." She turned back to the photographs. "Anyway...Lionel here has worked on several bombings and Stella has designed weapons for almost every single band off terrorists in the world." Troy was struggling to take all this in...but more importantly what had all this got to do with him? "Then of course there's Micho Tenvité and Ernich Oumor." Wilhelmina went on. "Locked up in jail, thanks to that bloody awful escapade on Caluna (**see 'Clear as Mud)**." Wilhelmina gestured to two photographs, set slightly apart from the others. "Micho worked for the IRA during the Irish Civil War in the 80's, but then he got a bit bored when all the treaties were signed and all the killing stopped. He now works for us..." She smiled fondly at the portrait before turning to the one next to it. "Ernich is a bomb expert. He's worked practically everywhere." She moved on to a different set of photographs. This photo was different. It depicted a family, sitting in an extremely posy and contrived way in front of a bluey-grey cloudy background. "This one is of Tony, Jill and their daughter Rosie." Wilhelmina went on. As Troy leant towards the picture, his stomach twisted. The man in the picture was the lorry driver, the one that had run him over.

"Hang on!" He yelped. "He's the bloke that ran me over!"

"Yes." For the first time, Wilhelmina looked uncomfortable. " Sorry about that...Tony's our getaway driver and we use their home as a safe house." She gestured towards up the lawn towards the party.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Troy had finally had enough. Now was the time to get to the point.

"Because, Troy Bolton," Wilhelmina said, stepping forward. "We need your help..."


	5. Boom Shake the Room

**Chapter Five – Boom Shake the Room**

Troy stared at the obviously mentally unstable woman in front of him.

"What the hell?" He asked. Wilhelmina rolled her eyes.

"Terrorists need funds, Troy." She said, strolling nonchalantly over to the desk. One there, she picked up a small, pink piggy bank with flowers stencilled on the side. "So far, in the Death Merchant's terror fund we have...." She opened up the bottom of the piggy bank and collected the coins that fell out into her small palm. "....79p...." She looked up. "Not enough for a proper project."

"Hang on!" Troy said, for what must have been the eleventh time that night. "Hang on one diddly second!!! You want me to fund your massacres?" Wilhelmina smiled at him.

"Exactly. Well caught on, Troy."

"NO!!" Troy yelled. "I have hardly any money....anyway, it's immoral." Wilhelmina rolled her eyes.

"I know you don't have any money, Troy." She said, as if talking to a stupid person, which in fact she was. "We've developed a very elaborate and ingenious scheme that will result in you receiving a fair bit of money indeed." She paused. "And then you'll give it to us."

"What if I say no?"

"We kill you." Chipped in Barry, who had somehow acquired a Browning 9x19mm Hi-Power handgun and was now flicking the safety catch lazily.

"Oh." Troy eyed the weapon warily.

"So you really don't have a choice."

"No."

"We should really get down to business."

"Yes." Wilhelmina pulled out a diary from the drawer of the desk. She started flicking through the pages.

"28th May." She said. "You know what day that is?"

"Yeah...it's my big game." Troy knew the date off by heart; his father had been drilling it into his brain. Literally. Troy could still feel the marks.

"It won't be YOUR big game, Troy." Wilhelmina said, smiling evilly. "It'll be Coleman High's big game. The Death Merchants are going to put a bet of $80,000,000,000 on the East High Wildcats losing the game....and we're going to be right."

"You mean....you want me to....rig the game?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I want you to do. We'll use the proceeds to fund our next project." The reality of what he was being asked to do suddenly hit home.

"I can't do this!" He stammered. "I can't do anything like this! I can't fire a gun, I don't even know how to set a bomb!"

Of course, that was when the bomb went off.

The whole world was thrown into oblivion and Troy felt his eyebrows being singed. His crutches were thrown away and Wilhelmina was cowering behind the desk. Barry was still standing in the doorway, untouched.

It had come from the house. Slowly, Barry, Troy and Wilhelmina emerged from what was left of the shed, crossed the garden and found what was left of the house. People were screaming, running in every direction. Troy had a sickening feeling he knew exactly what had happened.

Sure enough, Chad emerged from the rubble, laughing his head off.

"Did you see that, Troy?" He asked, in between splutters of laughter. "Best yet!"

Troy groaned. Wilhelmina turned to look at him, an odd expression on her face. She wordlessly handed him a business card and walked away, Barry at her heels.

Chad continued to giggle as Troy fingered his ruined eyebrows mournfully. Tonight had been interesting...


	6. Forgive and Forget

**Chapter Six – Forgive and Forget**

If it had been left up to Troy, Chad would have died there and then. Thankfully, it wasn't up to Troy and it was up to the police instead. Due to the fact that Chad was underage and that he had been 'Under-the-Influence' as the police so tactfully put it (Troy would have settled for 'pissed') he was given 36 hours of community service. Troy was given 35, for supposed 'involvement'.

"It could have been worse..." Chad said, cheerfully stripping a park bench of chewing gum with a poncey little metal thing neither of them knew the actual purpose of. "I mean..." He fingered his orange overalls thoughtfully. "...no one died did they?"

"You seem to be missing the fundamental point here, Chad..." Troy replied, picking up a discarded cheesy nibblers with a gloved hand. "If you hadn't planted the bomb in the first place, we wouldn't be here. We'd be practising our basketball moves and gelling our hair in the toilets at school so ore Dads don't find out."

Chad sniffed. "I miss the gel..." He said.

"Oh yeah?" Troy said. "Well not only do I miss the gel, I now have a load of terrorists on my tail asking me to work for them. How do you think I feel, buddy?"

"Oh yeah." Troy had filled Chad in on the consequences of his bomb attack after the party, when they'd been locked up in a police cell for the night.

"RATS!" The yell came from across the other side of the park. Troy and Chad quickly got back to what they were doing as the bloated form of Fraulein Hiffenburg waddled up the path. Hiffenburg was their supervisor and she was also a little bit mental.

Mental didn't actually cover it. Chad swore he'd once seen her bite the head off a squirrel and use its guts to varnish a park bench, although that was Chad speaking and Chad was about as reliable as a WWI fighter plane with no engine, no wings and with Gabriella Montez as a pilot.

Hiffenburg lumbered towards them.

"Vas ist going on?" She spat, right into Troy's face. Troy slowly reached up and wiped the spittle out of his eye.

"I'm just picking up the litter..." He motioned towards the packet of cheesy nibblers now safely captured between his fingers.

"Oh!" Hiffenburg barked. "I see! Picking up zer litter are ve?"

"Erm...yes..."

"Vell then..." She said, sarcasm dripping in torrents, so much so that Troy was nearly swept along down the current of sarkyness. "I vill leave you to it, shall I?"

"That would be great." With an air of severe distaste, Hiffenburg turned to address Chad.

"And vat..." She began. "...have ve here?"

"I dunno, really..." Chad said, raising the weird metal implement. "...we can't seem to work out what it's for..."

"I vill tell you vat it's for!" Hiffenburg barked. "Sticking up the rear end of boys that don't VERK!!!" She drew breath as Troy and Chad cowered beneath her. "You are here for a REASON!" She yelled. "You have done BAD THINGS! And you vill PAY!" She turned on her heel and went over to deal with another orange overall clad boy who appeared to have stuck himself to a lamppost.

"My god..." Chad murmured. " I don't know how much more I can take of this..."

"Only another 29 hours..."

*

Just because they were juvenile delinquents, Troy and Chad weren't allowed to skip school. After eight hours of suffering in a classroom environment, they were mercilessly chucked outside, where they suffered in an outside environment. Troy's life was mainly one big pile of suffering.

Coach Bolton, however, was incredibly proud of his son and kept shouting inappropriate things out in the middle of assembly, to prove his point. Not preventing the blowing up of number 47 was the most manly thing Troy have ever done, and the Coach was deliriously happy that his son had not yet turned into a girl.

Gabriella however, was not as ecstatic about Troy's actions. After a two hour lecture on exactly how 'immoral' his behaviour had been, Troy had pointed out that she'd been too drunk to notice the house explode around her and had then dribbled all the way down Taylor's new 'Bench' top which, all things considered, she should really apologise for. This earned him a smack.

Sharpay was also among the people no longer speaking to him. Occasional huffs were the only attempt at communication she made, although Troy found himself less than bothered. Before, he'd been offended at her icy attitude, although he now found himself with more important things to lose his head over.

Terrorists wanted him.

After the party, Barry had popped round once or twice, disguised as a delivery boy providing a pizza no one had ordered. This guise wasn't particularly effective, as Barry was around thirty eight and couldn't really be called a boy in anyone's books. Coach Bolton turned a blind eye however; he thought he was dealing drugs: an easy step into manhood.

While Coach Bolton happily imagined exactly how high his son might be at that moment, Gabriella disowned her boyfriend and Mrs Bolton scoffed the discarded pizza's in the kitchen, Barry and Troy came up with an elaborate scheme on how to rig the next basketball game. Actually, it wasn't that elaborate, but it would work...


End file.
